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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29922357">Family Is Futile</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/discdreams/pseuds/discdreams'>discdreams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Resentment for The City [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Depression, Dissociation, Family Dynamics, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety, Suicide Attempt, Technoblade Has ADHD (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Trans Character, Trans Wilbur Soot, Transphobia, Twins Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Wilbur Soot-centric, sorry americans, this is set in england</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:13:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29922357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/discdreams/pseuds/discdreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere along the line, Techno remembers learning that having a twin means that you're never supposed to be alone- he's not entirely sure if that's the case anymore.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Eret &amp; Floris | Fundy &amp; Niki | Nihachu &amp; Ranboo &amp; Toby Smith | Tubbo, Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Resentment for The City [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>225</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. we would wonder why our eyes no longer meet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello there friends! let me preface- this is based on their dream smp characters/personas and is not based on the actual streamers. this fic does contain very heavy, triggering content, so PLEASE read the tags. please be careful.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was Techno and Wilbur’s first day of year 10, and Techno couldn’t be dreading it more. He woke up with a pit in his stomach, anxiety setting in and ready to ruin his day before he’d even woken up, alarm flashing 6:00 beside him. Despite an hour passing since then, he wasn’t feeling the slightest bit better, medication downed with a glass of water and a reluctant piece of toast that Phil had shoved in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hated secondary school with his entire being, though that wasn’t exactly unexpected, at least not to his family. His medication had kept his anxiety relatively at bay, allowing him to function just enough to attend school, but not enough to stop him from having anxiety attacks in the bathroom after a test he thought he failed. He used to have a couple friends, but never many, and they were long gone now, always sticking to Wilbur, who, unfortunately for Techno, was rather sociable.  Whilst Wilbur made friends, shouting across the table during class about God-Knows-What, Techno had always been stuck on the side-lines, taking notes like his life depended on them and trying his best to ignore the world around him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t that Wilbur would abandon him, no, that wasn’t the case at all. If Techno wanted to leave, his brother would be out of there with him in a heartbeat without a single complaint. Techno, however, was simply too stubborn, insisting on not being a burden on his family, putting up with whatever came his way with little complaint. He followed the drill, ignoring the kids that picked on his hair, or how quiet he was, until he was home and could hurt in the confines of his own room. It wasn’t all bad last year, but his friend’s had all drifted, and now Techno was alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was interrupted from his thoughts by Tommy joining them in the kitchen, heading straight for the bread without uttering a word to any of them. The newest addition to their household hadn’t yet warmed up to them, a force to be reckoned with at the young age of 10. He was angry, and rightfully so, a product of the amount of homes he’d been passed between like a rag doll. Techno imagined he couldn’t be too thrilled about the idea of going to school either, but he wouldn’t exactly know- it wasn’t as though the kid actually spoke to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil gently clapped his hands together, trying not to startle the youngest, leaning back on his seat. “Right. Now that you’re all here, just letting you know that we’re leaving in 10,” he started, surveying the room. “Anyone excited?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno scoffed, taking a sip of water, watching an equally unamused Tommy sit down at the table with his burnt toast, giving Phil a blank stare in response. Phil shouldn’t have expected any different from them, really.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your sleeves are rolled up,” Tommy interjected bluntly, staring at Wilbur’s uniform. The boy glanced down, his shirtsleeves rolled back over his blazer, stopping just above his elbows, before he met Tommy’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Very good,” Wilbur responded in his usual sarcastic deadpan, “you can see.” Phil shot him a look, but his son paid him no mind, taking another bite of his toast. Tommy didn’t seem to mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It looks stupid.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look stup-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhh-kay,” Phil pushed himself to his feet, clapping his hands together once again, the conversation drawing to a halt. “Are we ready to go?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur huffed, taking his plate to the sink and stacking it on top of Phil and Techno’s. Despite his attitude towards the uniforms, having gotten used to messing around with his own style over the summer, Wilbur was somehow simultaneously the happiest and most nervous among the three about going to school. He’d always been good at making friends, that wasn’t the problem, but after coming out at the end of last year, and his social transition over the summer, he naturally was bound to be apprehensive. Techno couldn't blame him- the kids at their school were absolute pricks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sat in the passenger seat on the way to school, Techno couldn't wait to go back home.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil pulled up outside their secondary, turning back to look so that the twins were both in his view. “Be good, okay?” He started, despite knowing deep down that these weren’t the two kids he should be worrying about, not with Tommy around, who was currently sat beside Techno with a scowl on his face. “Call me if you need anything, I’ll be working from home today so it won’t be a problem. I’ll pick you up at three.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur nodded, climbing out of the passenger seat, backpack slung over his shoulder, prompting Techno to do the same, dread pooling in the latter’s stomach. Phil glanced at Techno, an eyebrow raised as if to ask him if he was okay- he wouldn’t outright say it, for fear of embarrassing the boy, but Techno knew that he was worried for him. Trying to ease the older man’s nerves, he just nodded, forcing a small smile onto his face, shutting the car door behind him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have a good day,” Phil called, only for Wilbur to let the passenger side door slam behind him, cutting him off. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye Dad!” Wilbur yelled, hoping he would hear it through the window, though the sheer volume of his voice didn’t make it difficult. The look Techno gave him was rather unimpressed, though it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. “What?” Wilbur prompted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your obnoxiousness never fails to amaze me,” Techno deadpanned, shaking his head slightly. Wilbur scoffed, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at his brother.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, says the guy with the pink hair down to his waist,” Wilbur retorted,  earning a mere shrug in response, “They’re gonna get you for that, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno shrugged. He honestly hadn’t been sure about dyeing his hair. He’d always had it long, and though at first the teasing was incessant, it had stopped completely when that rumour had spread last year. The pink had happened over the summer, Techno reluctantly giving in after Tommy had contributed that it would look ‘sick as fuck’. With those being the first words the new addition had spoken to him, he’d be damned if he didn’t listen to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Even if it meant getting into shit with the school.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What can they do, it’s already been dyed,” Techno pointed out, shrugging lightly. “At most they’ll give me detention.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He ended up with a detention on Friday, as predicted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was lucky he didn’t get more, really, him and a couple of the girls with blue hair being sent straight to the headmaster for unnatural hair colours and a uniform violation. He didn’t particularly care- universities and colleges didn’t look into detentions, and it wasn’t as though he had much to do after school anyway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He and Wilbur ended up in the same tutor group as last year, alongside Niki, though Techno couldn’t seem to figure out whether that was a good thing or not. Niki was lovely, he’d known her for three years, since she was constantly over their house, but that was exactly the thing. She was Wilbur’s best friend, not his, leaving him with little to do other than scroll through his phone whilst his brother animatedly caught her up on what she’d missed since they last saw each other. It wasn’t at all that Niki would purposely leave him out, no, she was too welcoming for anything of the sort, but they were never really friends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As a matter of fact, Techno didn’t have any friends anymore.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His first class wasn’t terrible, maths with Wilbur at his side, a relatively decent teacher talking through what they’d be covering that year. There was nothing particularly special about him, nothing that stood out, but at least he wasn’t a complete and utter dick like his new French teacher was. He had her third, and if it wasn’t bad enough that he was stuck in a class that he did not want to take, she set down the ‘only French’ rule on day one leaving him unable to understand a word she spoke. He’s barely paid attention in his last few years of French- how the hell did she expect him to know more than tell her he’d gone to the library that weekend?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite a particularly gruelling French lesson, his day wasn’t as bad as he’d expected it to be. Some people whispered around him at lunch, likely bringing up last year's incident to their friends, but no one dared to speak of it to his face. He’d stuck with Wilbur then, sitting at a table with Niki and her older younger brother Fundy, a twelve year old that he’d never particularly liked. He’d never done anything specific, in fact, Techno had barely ever interacted with the kid, but he’d always given him off vibes. Maybe it was the way he’d demand to be picked up from places, or kick up a fuss when Niki asked him to help her with the smallest of things- then again, maybe he was overreacting. Wilbur seemed to like him, at least.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His last class was English, one that he also shared with Wilbur, and unfortunately, Dream. The two hadn’t spoken since the end of last year, and definitely hadn’t left on the best of terms. Techno spent his summer spiralling alone in his room, knowing that rumours would only grow with the absence of classes, whilst Dream still had George and Sapnap to hang around. He’d been right about the rumours spreading, what, with the looks he’d received in the hallway, the people who’d shy away from his desk as though he might reach out and hit them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Logic told him that he should hate the guy, considering Dream was the reason that he’d been stuck in this situation in the first place, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. In fact, he understood better than most </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d let it get so out of hand, why Dream never bothered to correct anyone. It was part of the reason why Techno hadn’t corrected anyone either.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite that, it was still incredibly awkward when their new teacher paired the two up for a project. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dream shuffled his stuff over to Techno’s desk, huffing as he sat down, eyes trained on the board at the front of the class. Neither of them dared to speak, letting the silence linger whilst the rest of the class erupted into conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you read the book yet?” Techno asked quietly, a copy of Lord of the Flies set out on his desk. Dream picked up his own copy, flipping it over, before nodding.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Couple years ago, I think. I don’t really remember it very well.” He shrugged, letting it drop back onto his desk with a thump. The task seemed simple enough, a presentation on three themes of choice but was an extended project.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He and Dream would have to meet up outside of class.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know what topic you want to do?” Dream asked eventually, leaning back in his seat, his knee bouncing beneath the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno. The utopia versus dystopia might be interesting,” Techno suggested, skimming through the suggested list. Dream nodded in agreement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We could do the loss of innocence? I guess the evil one could fit too- you know, the ‘is evil learned or is it innate’ discussion. That way we could link them all together,” Dream said, the two falling back into natural conversation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Techno had missed this, the way their ideas would bounce off of eachother, how things with Dream had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>so easy</span>
  </em>
  <span> until the summer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno nodded in agreement. “Those work,” he agreed, “when are you free?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll text you a time later. We’ll need to sort something out, I don’t think we’ll even come close to getting this done in one night. You can probably come over to mine? It’s quieter, and my- no one’s home,” the other boy offered. “You still have my number, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno nodded again. Dream continued. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, that settles it, then.” He paused, looking up with a grin. “I missed you Techno. I’m sorry about last year. Truly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno offered him a weak smile. “It’s.. okay. I get it. You were scared-” Dream scoffed, cutting him off.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I just-” he ran a hand through his hair, stressed, unable to find the words to defend himself. “I wasn’t scared.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno let it go.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How were your days?” Phil asked, leaning back from the driver’s seat to greet his sons. “Were they good?” Wilbur nodded; Techno shrugged. Phil just sighed- he hadn’t expected much else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I was thinking that we could watch a movie tonight?” He suggested, pulling out of the school car park, driving towards Tommy’s school. “You know, order in some pizza, just to celebrate your first days back. I thought it might be nice.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur didn’t reply. “Yeah, sounds good dad,” Techno answered instead, glancing back at  his brother- had something happened in his last class to make him so withdrawn, or was he just tired?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Techno asked, turning back in his seat. Wilbur only gave him a weird look in return.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” He retorted, eyebrows furrowing. He shook his head, turning his attention back to his phone. Techno didn’t push any further. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. so i wandered off and went to fill the halls in my shadow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW - descriptions of depression, mentions of panic attacks (nothing detailed), descriptions of dissociation, misgendering</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A week or so later, Wilbur doesn’t get out of bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Neither Phil nor Techno were particularly concerned about that, and Tommy barely even noticed when he didn’t come down for breakfast that Saturday. They’d just assumed that the boy was tired, trying to get some extra sleep in before his day began. He'd had a particularly gruelling day yesterday, had passed out the moment he entered the house, and hadn't come down since. Naturally, he was exhausted, and neither Techno nor Phil could really blame him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Should we get him up?" Techno asked, eyeing the stairs leading to Wilbur's room. "He hasn't eaten since lunch yesterday, he's gotta be hungry."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil hesitated, before shaking his head. "I already knocked, he's completely out of it. Give him a couple hours, yesterday wore him out."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That's an understatement," Techno commented, flipping over one of the pancakes. Seeing Wilbur have a panic attack hadn't been too alarming, not when they used to be so frequent. No, the worrying part was the three that followed, an unknown trigger setting him off the moment they thought he'd finally calmed down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur, of course, had refused to talk about it, insisting that he was fine, that it was the stress of school and that he'd just have to get through it, but Techno wasn't so sure. Wilbur never worried about his grades or his friends, not the way Techno did, at least, and he'd just been.. off. He was unusually quiet, the absence of his relentless guitar playing usually a blessing, but the way he holed up in his room was concerning. That being said, Techno wasn't going to push.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Should I make some for Wilbur?" Techno asked, glancing back at Phil. The older man shook his head, setting his coffee cup down on the table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Don't bother. They'll be cold by the time he's up- I'll get him something if he's hungry," he explained. Techno nodded, the room lapsing into silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Your cooking tastes like shit."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil's head whipped around, Tommy's presence previously unannounced, the youngest hovering in the doorway of the kitchen. Phil gaped at him, though Techno wasn't entirely sure whether it was out of shock that the kid was actually speaking to him, or the fact that he'd been caught off guard. Techno snorted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"It does," he agreed, shrugging light-heartedly when Phil shot him a look of mock-offensive. The older already knew that his cooking sucked, thanks to the twins' relentless reminders over the years. Wilbur was just as bad as he was, Techno being the only one trusted not to poison them all.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Could you do any better?" Phil challenged, trying to keep his tone light-hearted enough. Tommy just shrugged, apathetic as usual.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"At least I don't burn toast," Tommy pointed out. Techno let out a laugh, earning a small smile from the youngest- he counted it as a win. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil raised his hands in mock surrender. "You got me there," he chuckled, nodding to a seat at the table. "You can sit, if you want. Do you like pancakes?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy shrugged, making no effort to move from the doorway. "Never had them."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil tried his best to keep his face neutral, ignoring the mixture of rage and sympathy bubbling in his stomach. It happened every time any of his kids would bring up their lives beforehand, their experiences- or lack thereof- growing up in the system. Wilbur and Techno had been lucky in hindsight, Phil being their second house.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>According to Tommy, he'd stopped counting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil kept those feelings under wraps, pushing them down, something he could feel at a later date. "Do you want to try them?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tommy visibly hesitated, before shuffling over to the table, taking a seat at the opposite end to Phil, something that didn't surprise him in the slightest. Techno was wary of him at first too, as was Wilbur- Tommy was no difference.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno moved a couple pancakes onto a plate for Tommy, placing it in front of the boy. "You can eat them plain, but most people add toppings. Golden syrup or lemon and sugar are pretty common, but you can just add whatever."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I know what a pancake is," Tommy retorted, reaching for the Nutella. "I'm not stupid, I've just never had one." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno shrugged. "Suit yourself."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Phil pushed himself to his feet, making his way towards the kitchen- Techno held the spatula out, preventing him from coming any close.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What are you doing?" He deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at his father. "You know the rules. Stay away from the kitchen whilst I'm cooking." </span>
  <span>Phil pulled a face, retreating back towards his seat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I was only looking," he protested, only to be met by Techno  shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't care. You ruin food just by being in a 10 foot radius of it- you're just as bad as Wilbur." Said boy would be living off of instant ramen and dry cereal if he had his way, and an entirely incompetent cook, just as Phil was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Wilbur made coffee with an energy drink the other day, that's arguably worse than burning toast," he argued.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That's different. Wilbur's 14 and sleep deprived- you're just a terrible cook," Techno pointed out, plating the last couple pancakes for himself. "Or was sleep deprived. I guess today will fix that."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not until early afternoon of the next day that they start to clock that something’s wrong. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur had been in his room for nearly 48 hours now, besides the couple times Techno had heard him stumble to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It wasn't entirely unusual for the younger to sleep in longer than the others, keeping himself up with his guitar, but his sleeping has hit a point to cause some mild concern. Nothing too major, no, but something nagging at the back of Techno’s mind that he couldn’t shake. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knocked on Wilbur’s door, Tommy hovering behind him, likely feeling the same unease at the disappearance of the other. Upon receiving no response, the younger boy looked at him hesitantly- at what point is breaking his privacy acceptable? Had it reached that point yet? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno answered by twisting the door handle and pushing the door open.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s so glad he did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur was curled up in bed, sheets pulled up above his chin, completely still. His phone remained untouched and unplugged, on the floor out of his reach. Beside him stood a half-drunk water bottle, and his bag from school still zipped up and packed. Techno's heart sank.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong with him?” Tommy asked bluntly, choosing to ignore the fact that Wilbur was right there. Techno stood speechless, frozen in place. He wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>so badly</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go to his brother, to find out what was wrong, but he.. couldn't? He remained motionless, heart racing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What's going on?" Phil's voice called from across the hall, walking over with furrowed eyebrows. His house had big rules on privacy, knocking before entering people's rooms, staying out of their stuff. "What are you doing in.."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He caught sight of Wilbur, trailing off. The boy was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> asleep- Phil glanced down at Techno, the two sharing a concerned look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Will?” Phil asked, the door creaking as he pushed it open further. Wilbur didn’t answer him, the room lapsing into silence. Phil approached him, sitting down on the edge of his bed, a hand gently resting on the boy’s shoulder. “Wilbur?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur opened his eyes, shoulder twitching as though he were trying to shrug Phil away, though it wasn’t even in the ballpark of strong enough. He mumbled something unintelligible; Phil leant in closer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice unusually soft.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave m’ alone,” Wilbur mumbled in response, allowing his eyes to close again. Phil's heart skipped a beat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want something to eat? Drink?” He asked, not listening to his son's request. Still, he was met with nothing but silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need anything?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to stay?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Phil shuffled off the bed, towards Tommy and Techno, who still lingered in the doorway, Techno concerned, Tommy confused and mildly horrified. “Call us if you need anything, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Upon receiving no answer, Phil ushered the two out of the door, shutting it gently behind him, letting silence take over the room. He made his way to the living room, away from Wilbur’s room, Techno following suit, Tommy on his heels. It was clear from his face that he was trying to say something, but couldn’t seem to find the words- Techno understood the feeling completely. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What's.." Techno trailed off, at a loss for words. Phil pinched the bridge of his nose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Tommy, do you want to go upstairs?" Phil asked, not entirely comfortable discussing the topic with a 10 year old. Techno stepped away, giving him room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No?" Phil asked, surprised at his sudden stubbornness. Tommy shook his head in confirmation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No. I want to know," he argued, unusually defiant. Phil took a moment, looking him up and down, before relenting with a nod. This wasn't the time to argue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I don't know," Phil admitted, sitting down on the armchair. Techno took the end of the sofa, Tommy still hovering beside the coffee table. "I don't know. It could just be that he's sleeping off the panic attacks? I know they wear him out."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A feeling in Techno's gut told him otherwise, the way his heart sank and his stomach twisted, wringing him out from the inside. Phil knew it too, Techno was sure of it- even Tommy didn't seem to be buying the story. This wasn't anxiety.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno still hoped that it was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wilbur didn't get out of bed on Monday either, though no one expected him to, more hoped naively that he'd bounce back with a logical explanation. Phil took the day off work to stay with him- 'just in case', he'd said (Techno hadn't wanted to think of the implications)- and Tommy and he had opted to walk to school. It was barely a 15 minute walk, anyway, with the only reason Phil had been previously driving them being the addition of Tommy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Are you sure you're good to walk?" Phil asked again, concern lacing his features, eyes dark with lack of sleep. It wasn't as though Techno's night had been particularly restful either, worry for his brother keeping him up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm 10. Not 3," Tommy interjected, arms crossed, school jumper hanging off him loosely. It was too big for him, Phil trying to give him to grow into, even though it'd be his last year of Primary. It was a bright blue, his clip on tie barely hanging onto the collar of his shirt, shoes scuffed already- Wilbur had commented on how ridiculous he looked mere days ago.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What he said," Techno agreed, glancing down at the boy. Phil just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Keep an eye on him, okay?" He asked, earning a scoff from the younger boy.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"-I am right here-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Update me on Wilbur?" Techno requested, ignoring Tommy entirely. Said boy just huffed, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling as though Phil and Techno's conversation were the world's biggest inconvenience</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno wasn't the least bit surprised when Tommy instantly walked 20 paces ahead of him on the walk to school. He wasn't too worried, trusting that the 10 year old had at least enough sense to not walk into oncoming traffic. Sure, he was a flight risk, but he hadn't ran in months, and Techno was confident in his abilities to catch the kid before he got too far.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He watched him walk into school anyway, raising his hand in silent goodbye, Tommy slipping past the teacher on duty into the practically-empty playground. Techno started earlier than the kid, meaning Tommy had to hang around his lessons, an inconvenience more than anything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And with that, Techno made his way across the path to his school, waiting at the adjacent gate to be let in by the receptionist. Music blasted through his headphones, songs blending together to the point that he couldn't make them out- he'd have to take them out on the property and he knew it, a stupid rule enforced by the school to make anyone neurodivergent suffer immensely. He knew Wilbur had similar issues, panicking alone in a school hallway, unable to rely on the music to ground him, and it sucked. For Techno, it was more of a distraction than anything, but that didn't make it any less unfair, just another disadvantage the world had handed him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His first four classes were a blur, Techno zoning in and out of focus, mumbling half-hearted excuses about how he had the flu. A couple teachers wished Wilbur well, most only gave Techno catch-up homework for the boy that he knew would never get done. He wasn't exactly convinced that whatever this was would take a pause for Wilbur to do some trigonometry.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His feet carried him to the library, finding himself sat at a table in the corner before he knew it, time warping and merging and wasting away. Focus was lost on him, pulling out his book and willing himself to concentrate enough to work on the assignment whilst he waited for Dream. Words swam around the page, catching every other, 'dystopia' and 'microcosm' standing out beneath pink highlighter. Nothing stuck, his mind an incessant loop of </span>
  <em>
    <span>WilburWilburWilbur-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Hi." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno's head snapped up to find the source of the voice, green eyes staring back. Dream’s face split into a grin, dropping his bag beside him at his feet, sliding into a chair. “Sorry I’m late,” he continued, “Sapnap wouldn’t shut the fuck up, as per usual, and George needed my fucking History notes because he couldn’t be bothered to stay awake for five seconds.” He shook his head absentmindedly, pulling books out of his bag. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A glance at the time told Techno that it was already halfway through lunch-</span>
  <em>
    <span> had that much time passed?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He shrugged anyway, unable to bring himself to care. “S’okay,” he muttered, pushing a couple mindmaps across the table for Dream to have a look at. “Here. It’s not much but I think it’s enough for a rough outline. You can add what you want.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dream pulled it towards himself, starting to glance it over. “Hey, where’s your sister at today? She wasn’t in science,” Dream asked casually, only looking up when he received no response. “She sick or something?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. “You mean Wilbur? My brother?” That caught his attention, voice cold, hoping to God that it was a mistake and that he wouldn’t have to punch Dream for real this time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever. He okay?” Dream looked back at the work, grabbing a pen to start to make his own notes. Techno hesitated before he spoke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s fine. Just the flu,” he replied slowly, cautious. He didn’t take people misgendering anyone lightly, especially not Wilbur. But it had to be a mistake- it </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be. Dream didn’t have a problem with Karl, so why would he have any issues with Wilbur? Right?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that sucks. Tell him I hope he gets better soon,” he answered, pushing a mind map back into the centre of the table, pointing with the end of his pen. “Okay, so this is all good, but I think we should expand more on the idea of the island being a weapon- I like that idea, links in with the other themes. You wanna expand on that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno nodded, letting the slipup go. “Yeah, okay. I was thinking- the question is utopia versus dystopia, so you could argue that it’s a dystopia if you present the island itself as the downfall for their society. For example, the island is the one that gives them the conch, the sticks, and the woods and the cliffs are ultimately what lead to Simon and Piggy’s deaths. Right?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dream grinned once again, shaking his head. “You’re a fuckin’ genius, dude. Glad I got paired with you over some pissy pick-me girl.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Techno hesitated. “Yeah. Me too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey there! sorry for the wait between updates, i've been too mentally stable to write any of this aha. </p>
<p>if you wanted to follow me on twitter, it's https://twitter.com/thediscdreams :D comments are very much appreciated, constructive criticism is always allowed. if there are any mistakes, please let me know</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. it was hard to call the thing we saw a storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Another week went by with little improvement from Wilbur. Techno and Tommy continued out their routine, walking to school metres apart, acting as though nothing were wrong in their classes, and then returning home to the lingering silence of the halls. Wilbur had retreated into himself, becoming nothing more than a shell, and Phil had taken weeks off of work. He’d started taking calls from home, his office only partially understanding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today was no different, Techno noticed, on his way to pick up Tommy from his primary school. He and Dream worked on their project at lunch, going over the importance of good versus evil, despite how badly Techno struggled to pay attention. The routine brought about this sense of discomfort, a staleness to his days where they’d stay just as shitty as the previous had been. Nothing improved, and nothing changed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until Techno found Tommy was sitting on the fence outside his class with a split lip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno frowned, approaching him with concern. Despite how much Tommy seemed to despise him, it was still a little alarming to find said 10 year old significantly worse for wear than when he'd been dropped off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What happened to you?" Techno asked, coming face to face with the kid. Tommy scoffed, hopping off of the fence, adjusting the straps of his backpack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"None of your business," he spat, starting to walk ahead. Techno's frown deepened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Hey, hey, no. You're not going to pull that with me today." Techno caught up to Tommy, blocking his way out- Tommy only glared up at him, teeth gritted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you gonna do about it?" Tommy challenged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I can go inside and ask why you look like someone hit you," Techno drawled, thoroughly unimpressed. Tommy's glare intensified.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"No you won't."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno raised an eyebrow, heading back towards the school without hesitation- Tommy lunged, grabbing onto Techno's arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait!" He exclaimed, tugging him back. "Don't."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno turned back, looking down at his foster brother. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy hesitated. "Do we have to do this here?" He protested. Techno shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"We can talk on the way home," Techno suggested, "or somewhere in town. We can get ice cream, if you want."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. "We can get ice cream?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yes?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Won't Phil be mad?" Tommy shuffled awkwardly on his feet, the situation unfamiliar. He wondered if this was the way that Phil felt when Tommy would open up about his childhood, tidbits of information that he didn't mean to drop into conversation. It was always accidental, but it told him enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno inhaled sharply, before shaking his head. "No, Dad won't be mad. I'll just let him know we'll be back later."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno started towards the school gate, motioning for Tommy to follow. Said boy hovered, filled with uncertainty, before opting to follow him, rather than being left behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their walk was mostly filled with silence, Techno sending his Dad a quick text to let them know where they’d be, receiving a reply almost instantly in the form of a thumbs up. Techno sighed- in all honesty, he was glad to be out of the house for a little while longer. He was worried for Wilbur, of course, but his presence had melted into the shadows, a cold silence settling into the hallways of their usual lively household. The discomfort Techno felt in that house was overpowering even his concern.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, Tommy had only had ice cream once in his life, and that had been vanilla. The youngest spent the better part of ten minutes staring in awe at the flavours the shop had, unable to choose. He ended up settling for mint-choc-chip, Techno going for strawberry, deciding to sit on the tables outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Should we get one from Wilbur?” Tommy asked, ice cream dripping into his hand. He licked it off, Techno pulling a face at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s disgusting,” he commented light-heartedly. Tommy stuck his tongue out, which was now a bright green colour, and shrugged. “We’ll get him something on the way out. It’ll melt, otherwise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded, continuing to eat in silence. He was beginning to think he’d gotten away with it too, until Techno cleared his throat.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“So. You going to tell me what happened to your face?” The eldest prompted. Tommy groaned, leaning back in his seat, the plastic chair creaking beneath him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do I have to?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This was the deal. I get you ice cream, you tell me what happened,” Techno reminded him. Tommy threw his seat back again. “And stop that, you’ll break it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Tommy huffed, leaning forwards instead. “Are you going to tell Phil?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Tommy, I’m not going to tell him. Just tell me what happened,” Techno reassured him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s so fucking embarrassing,” Tommy grumbled, “but whatever.  This guy was picking on Tubbo for crying, so I shoved him. And he didn’t like being shoved, so he shoved me back and I fell, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno took a moment to process- were kids this violent when he was at school? “And none of the teachers saw?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy scoffed. “No. Tubbo and I were hiding behind the shed. The gap between the fence and the school,” he explained. Techno was familiar with it- he and Wilbur used to sit back there with a couple friends when they were in primary school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, moving onto the other part of the conversation. “Tubbo? Tubbo, as in Niki’s little brother?” He asked, trying to make conversation. Tommy gave him a look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many people do you know called Tubbo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.” Techno held his hands up in mock surrender. “Why was he crying?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy only frowned at him. “I’m not a snitch. None of your business,” he bit back, hostility seeping into his voice. That being said, it was hard to be scared of a ten year old with ice cream around his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you and Tubbo are friends now?” Techno prompted. Tommy shrugged again, clearly uninterested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess. He’s the only one that’ll play Pokémon with me properly. Everyone else plays it wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like Pokémon?” Techno asked, an eyebrow raised. Finally, he knew something about this kid who’d been living in his house. Techno could almost cry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy nodded. “Used to get a pack every Sunday. I have SoulSilver on my DS, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have a DS?” Techno asked. He hadn’t seen the kid using it, though that being said, he’d barely seen Tommy around the house at all. He mostly stayed in his room, except for at meals. Tommy hesitated, before nodding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t want Phil to take it away.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If any of their conversations hadn’t been like a stab to the heart, this one was. Phil hadn’t disclosed Tommy’s past to them, confidentiality and all, but the kid kept dropping shit into conversations. “Dad’s not gonna take anything away from you,” Techno tried to assure him, “he’s not like that. He’ll probably be glad that you’re not sitting around staring at a wall all day.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” Tommy mumbled, sinking into his seat. And with that, the light-hearted tone was ruined, the two lapsing into silence as they finished their ice creams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They ended up forgoing buying Wilbur an ice cream, figuring that it would go ignored anyway. He hadn’t been eating much, in addition to his isolation, had been ignoring food unless it was forced. He wasn’t getting any better, with whatever it was, and Phil was at wits end.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that evening, Phil had suggested that they watch a movie. Normally it would’ve been whatever was playing on the TV, that, or an old DVD they’d watched hundreds of times. It was Techno that had suggested an old Pokémon movie, watching Tommy’s eyes light up out of the corner of his eye- Phil couldn’t exactly say no to that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were halfway through the movie when they heard footsteps, Wilbur walking into the living room with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His fair was greasy, face pale, looking significantly worse for wear, but nonetheless, was out of bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur,” Phil greeted, looking back over the sofa. “Do you need something?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur shook his head, hovering in the doorway. “Can I join you?” He asked quietly, surprising all three of the other family members. Phil hid his shock the best, nodding and patting the empty sofa space beside him. Wilbur offered a weak half smile, curling up at Phil’s side, blanket still wrapped firmly around his shoulders. Phil moved an arm to hold him, suppressing a smile of his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which one is this?” Wilbur croaked, nodding slightly towards the TV. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rise of Darkrai,” Tommy answered, eyes still fixed on the movie playing in front of them. It was the longest the youngest had willingly spent in any of their presence to this date, and the stillest they’d seen him too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur nodded, letting his gaze fall to the film, watching hazily.  Techno tried to keep his focus away from Wilbur, an attempt to not draw any attention to him in case it made him worse. Despite that, he couldn’t help but feel hopeful. Was Wilbur finally better? Had he cracked? Was this the end of his weeks of his isolation?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno hoped to God that it was.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>things to expect from this series:<br/>- no beta reading<br/>- inconsistent updates</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>twitter: https://twitter.com/thediscdreams</p></blockquote></div></div>
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